The case of the missing model Episode 3
By the Masked Writer
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When I woke up the day after my encounter with Gina the Amazon, my body was aching everywhere. It was as if I had been run over with a bulldozer. Which was not that far from the truth, really. I could recover from the humiliation. I mean: this girl was almost twice my weight and my head barely reached her shoulder. She also had bodybuilder muscles.
But I felt that I was going to be in physical pain for a while longer. Every move I made was torture.
Nevertheless, I had to get up and get back to work, resume the investigation. Mrs Johnson wanted to find her daughter Kate and I had made a commitment to do so.
So I got out of my bed, in bras and panties, had eggs and bacon for breakfast and sat in front of my computer to find whatever I could about that place called “The Pit”. It did not take long. Of course there is their official web page, introducing it as “the hottest place in town for those who like something different”. The pictures showed a dark place, decorated with fake spider’s webs and gothic-style pictures on the wall. Customers dressed in all the styles you could imagines but with a predominance of Goths, Metals and other freaks. Newspaper articles mentioning the location, however, mostly focused on raids and arrests of petty drug traffickers and brawls that frequently took place. A few religious cult also apparently used the place for recruiting purposes, it being frequently the rendez-vous of more or les “lost” youngsters.
Luckily for me the place opened only at 6 PM. That gave me a whole day to recover from the beating I took the day before before going there.
So I went back to bed.
I got a good 6-hour nap before my telephone rang. It was Mrs Johnson, Kate’s mother, calling me to know if I had found something. I mumbled something about the investigation being just beginning, gave a very short summary of the previous day (without saying anything about the beating I got) and mentioned I intended to go to “The Pit” in the evening.
-Should I come too ? Maybe I could help you…
-No ! I said. This is my job ! you pay me for that !
And the last thing I wanted was an emotional elderly amateur risking blowing my cover and putting herself at risk of getting a beating like the one I got the day before. It took a bit of pleading but, eventually, she admitted it was better to let the pros do their work.
-I am going to wait for your result. She said.
I hooked the phone reassured. Silly me. And went back to bed.
It was dark when I woke up, took a light dinner and started to dress myself for my excursion at “The Pit”. Of course nobody goes there with a three-piece suit. And I am at least 25 years older than the average customer of that place. Nevertheless I still look young for my 56 years. I thought I’d manage not to stand out too much in this wildlife. make me stand out among this crowd. My chest, while voluptuousdoes not sag too much. I have a small roll of fat around the waist but nothing too noticeable. My hair is very black and a little makeup easily hides my few wrinkles. My buttocks aren’t too soft either, and my legs haven’t aged.
So I opted for a tight pair of trousers in gold and a red sleeveless blouse, with a deep cleavage, which left a strip of skin bare at the waist. I tied my hair in a bun to the side and added a few red and blue strands. For makeup I put more than less. Two bands of blush on the cheeks. Silver eyelids and purple lips. I shouldn’t stand out too much among the weirdos who frequent «The Pit».
So, around 9 PM I took my car, drove a few street corners from “The Pit” and left my car in an empty parking spot.
As I had thought, I did not stand out too much among the very colorful crowd. Actually, and contrary to what I had thought (and what their web site suggested) it was not only young people who hung out there. I could see every thing from underage to, well it was hard to say but 70 doesn’t seem exaggerated. And not all of them wore outfits that praised them. I could see a few women older than me wearing see through blouses and shorts shorts, showing everything saggy breasts to varicose veins, through jelly-like asses.
So I began asking questions. I had brought a picture of Kate Johnson in my purse, and few extra dollars to pay drinks and loosen the tongues. The barman showed me a woman in her thirties, making out with a man of about the same age in a corner. They were dressed in the "rocker" style: jeans, leather jackets. He has a beard and long hair, with a bare torso under his jacket. She has red hair, with only a tiny bustier under her jacket.
The barman told me :
-Ask Sheila ! I saw her with Kate for a while. I know they also talked to the people of the cult.
-What cult ? I asked. It was the second time a cult was mentioned in this case,
-Church of Happiness ! He said. They come here often to pass leaflets and try to recruit people. They usually stay out, right at the door. I think Sheila was one of them for a while. That’s all I know !
That was enough for me. Now I had to talk to this Sheila.
So I kept watching her, taking a sip of whisky once in a while and then I saw her going to the ladie’s room. Her boyfriend was not going with her. Good ! I followed her.
There was a crowd of noisy youngsters in the rather filthy ladies' bathroom from "The Pit". I told myself that a visit to the hygiene office would get them in serious trouble one day. Happily, by the time Sheila finished using the toilet, they were gone and we were just the two of us when she stood in front of the mirror to take a look at her hair.
I was pretending to do the same and I chose this moment to start the conversation. Starting with the small talk, I asked her if she came here often, she said yes, bla-bla-bla and when we left the room, I wouldn’t say we were friends but, at least, I played pretty well the part of the girl who absolutely seeks company and clings to the first person who wants to talk to her. Up close I could see she was a bit older than I had thought, in her forties maybe. She introduced me to her boyfriend “Jack”, who was a rather handsome guy, a bit younger than she was actually, six foot-tall, biceps, six packs and all, but seemed to be a bit dim-witted. Going on with the small talk, I found that his hands talked more than his mouth, as I had some trouble keeping them away from my body.
Which seemed to piss Sheila off, a bit, understandably.
I decided to take advantage of that. When some guys came in that Jack knew and they started to talk, Sheila motioned to me that she was going to smoke outside. I don't smoke but it seemed like a good opportunity so I pretended to agree and followed it. She walked out the back door and we found ourselves in a deserted alley. That’s where I started to talk about Kate Johnson. At first she admitted knowing her ad said she had last seen her with members of the cult “Churh of Happiness” but when my questions became a little bit more specific, she suddenly became suspicious, and even hostile.
-Why do you want to know ? she asked, and she gave me a push with her hand, starting to push me around, trying to intimidate me. I wasn’t intimidated. She was about my size and a bit plump, I felt could handle her. She shoved me, I shoved back. I expect her to slap me at one point but she surprised me with a direct punch on the cheek.
Unlike most women, she knew how to punch. at least how to make a fist to strike without hurting herself.
But that was pretty much the full extent of her hand-to-hand combat knowledge. The blow shocked me but did no real damage. When she moved to send me another one, I was ready for her.
My faraway years of judo came back to me and I grabbed her wrist, spinning around, putting her arm over my shoulder before leaning forward and passing her over my shoulder, legs up, into a classic 0-Goshi. She landed on the asphalt with a thud, letting out a gasp of pain. Now I could do whatever I wanted with her. So I straddled her, putting my butts firmly on her ample bosom and blocking her arms with my legs. She was still winded. I slapped her twice on the cheeks to wake her up.
Holding her chin in my hand, I told her :
-Violence will get you nowhere with me. I am better than you at this. So now let’s talk :
-What do you know about Kat Johnson ?
-Go to hell ! she said. So I grabbed her left hand and started to flex her wrist backwards, which made her cry out in pain.
-That is only a small taste of what I can do to you if you keep on with this attitude!
I said.
She gave me another round of insults, tried to backbend by lifting her pelvis to eject me from her chest, to no avail, then tried to raise her legs to try to grab my shoulders, or at least hit me. in the back with her knee but she did not have the flexibility or the technique for this kind of athletic maneuver. Actually she quickly exhausted herself. I lifted myself up slightly and fell back onto her chest, which again forced air out of her lungs and took away her last forces.
-OK ! She finally said, meekly.
-I don’t know where Kate is now but I know she went with a group of cult people…
-Church of Happiness ?
-Yea !
-Where can I find them ?
-They have a house belonging to them near the harbor. And two of them, two girls, come frequently at the bar. Last time I saw her, she was with them…
That was already something but I was not to learn anything more that night. I was about to ask her their name or a description but suddenly I felt two muscular arms embrace me from behind, squeeze me under the breasts and lift me off my victim like a vulgar doll. I was then literally thrown away and, after a short flight, landed face first on the hard ground. Thanks to my limited and ancient judo experience, I managed to receive myself without too much difficulty on the ground but the fall still left me a little dizzy and breathless. It is in these situations that we feel the weight of years.
I still grazed my hands, elbows and knees on the pavement and it hurt like hell.
The I heard Sheila’s voice :
-Get the bitch, Jack !
OK, her boyfriend, somehow decided to come see what his girlfriend was doing and saw me straddling on her and twisting her wrist.
Oh boy…
I tried to get back on my feet but the man was already on me. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and literally pulled me up as I screamed in pain and my eyes filled with tears. He forced me to face him and I pulled my remaining strength together, trying to trip him with a judo move but I was too clumsy and he was too big and too strong for me. Don’t believe the “in martial arts, weight and height don’t count crap”. If it was true they wouldn’t do different weight categories in competitions.
Then he kidney-punched me. I would have collapsed on the ground if he had not pulled me up by my shirt. Then he slapped me, making me spin around and fall flat on my face.
I was already beaten but he lift me again and, staying behind me, held my arms as I heard Sheila saying :
-Hold the bitch!
Then she was in front of me, and, while Jack held my arms behind me, she started punching me on the face and on the torso, in the belly, on the breast, all over. Could have been worse. Her punches were nothing compared to what HE could have done but I nevertheless took one hell of a beating.
Suddenly I felt like a lightning struck me. A real electric shock. I felt to the ground. Stunned, I still managed to lift my head and I saw Jack lying on the ground in convulsion. I raised my eyes and saw a tall, slim woman with a green whig, dressed in blue pants and loose shirt. Took me a while to make sense of what she was doing and then I realized she held a taser gun and was using it, repeatedly, on Jack. The guy was out of the fight for a while. She held the weapon a bit clumsily, as if she was afraid of what she was doing. Obviously it was her first time. So she made a mistake and did not watch Sheila.
So she did not see the redhead run at her. Sheila grabbed the other lady’s wrists, trying to snatch the taser away from her. They struggled for a moment and, quickly, the weapon fell on the ground. Cleverly, Sheila kicked it away.
Both women then fight unarmed. It immediately became obvious than Sheila was the stronger of the two and that the one who came to help me had no fighting experience whatsoever.
Sheila held the unknown woman’s arms for a moment and then, letting gor one of her wrists, punched her in the ribs. The slim woman doubled over with a gasp, then Sheila pulled her hair and the whig came off, showing short white hair. It is only then that I recognized her : it was Mrs Catherine Johnson, my client !
The tall, slim, sixty-something lady was no match for the younger street-savy girl. Sheila punched her in the face and Mrs Johnson, trying to back off from the pain, lost her balance, and fell, making useless reels with her long frail arms terminated by delicate hands. She stumbled and sprawled out full length on the pavement. Sheila jumped on her, straddling her slim torso and started to punch her in the face, while Mrs Johnson vainly tried to protect herself with her weak arms.
I had to do something because the enraged Sheila was going to hurt her seriously.
I mustered all the strength I could find in my worn-out body and I raised on my feet.
Happily, Jack was still unconscious. I walked towards the duo of Sheila and her victim (at that point I had to call her that) and jumped on Sheila, and grabbed her neck from behind, wrapping my arms around her in a judo choke hold, the edge of my forearm, pushing on her trachea artery, cutting the oxygen from her brain. She immediately started to struggle, as I pulled her of Mrs Johnson and wrapped my legs around her waist to keep her down in a body scissor. I knew I would not have another chance. I was the better fighter but she was much younger than me and I was washed-up. If she broke the hold, I was pretty sure she would beat me down. But my hold was firm and, suddenly, I felt her body become limp. She had lost conscience.
I pushed her off me and took a few second to catch my breath before crawling on all four to see how Mrs Johnson was faring.
At first sight, not very good.
She was a completely defeated woman. She could have passed ofr dead if she had not been quietly sobbing and breathing hard. I had to help her get up and walk. She was in a state of shock. I looked ofr the taser, could not see it and, as Jack was beginning to move, felt we had to get out of there as quickly as we could, I helped her walk towards the street and my car.
I, myself, was not feeling so good as I ached all over.
So we got to my car and I, instinctively, drove to my home. I could see that Mrs Johnson was not badly hurt but shocked and, from her rather incoherent mubling, I could say that she was shocked and ashamed of having been overpowered so quickly. I helped her to walk inside and got her lying on the couch.
She slowly was coming back to her sense and I offered her a whisky, which she accepted, to my surprise because I thought she would be more of the tea-drinking kind.
So we had a drink together, and then another one.
At one point, I told her what was on my mind for a while :
-I had told you not to come there !
She cried and she answered :
-It’s my daughter, I can’t just stay away !
After a few seconds, she added :
-Besides, I think I got there in time.
I had to admit : she probably saved me from a much worse beating.
-Yes, and I thank you for that ! I admitted.
And, whisky helping, we started to talk. She told me Kate was her only daughter and she had her at an age, where she had given up hope of having a child. So she was her pride and joy. She would not rest until she knew what happened to her. I could understand that.
After a while, I said I would take a shower and suggested she did the same.
We ended up taking together.
Not that we are lesbians. It just allowed us to check each other’s body and look for wounds, while really comforting each other.
We were both covered in bruises.
But as I looked to her naked body, I was surprised that she did not have any bones broken. She was so frail ! After the shower I massaged her neck and back to help her relax. That only confirmed my first impression.
Slim, no muscle tone. “Skinny fat” but more skinny than fat. Some flab underarms and a small belly in spite of her thinness. Portruding ribs and shoulder blades. Delicate neck. Small saggy breast.
Tall and elegant but weak and I would swear that she never had to give or take as much as a pat before tonight. I suddenly found her intervention during the fight was not only helpful but extremely courageous.
I suddenly had a growing respect for that lady.
While I was massaging her, we kept on talking. I told her what I learned about the cult people and where to find them. She was happy that we did not get a beating for nothing.
After that we went to bed. Her in my bed and me on the couch.
After all she was paying.
To be continued
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